Page 15 of Knot My Wonderland

"Wonderland often is," he said simply. "Beauty and cruelty, hand in hand. It's always been that way."

I clutched the teacup tighter, watching my knuckles turn white. "So I'm just... stuck here. Forever." The reality of it pressed down on me like a physical weight. No more college classes. No more apartment. No more lazy mornings with Mara bringing coffee and teasing me about my nest.

Mara. My chest ached at the thought of her waiting for a text that would never come. She had been my best friend, being there and understanding me more than anyone who thought I was weird.

"Not stuck," the Hatter corrected gently. "Returned. There's a difference."

I looked up at him, a spark of anger flaring in my chest. "Is there? Because from where I'm sitting, it feels like I've been kidnapped by a world that decided it owns me." The Hatter didn't flinch at my tone. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, those wild green eyes studying me with something like approval.

"Good," he said, nodding as if my anger was something valuable. "That fire will serve you well here. Wonderland respects those who refuse to bow." I set the cup down with more force than necessary, the liquid inside rippling in indignant waves of purple and gold.

"So what happens now?" I asked, pushing tangled hair back from my face. "I just... exist here? Hiding from everyone who wants to claim me?"

The Hatter's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Not hiding, no. That would be a waste of your particular talents." He stood suddenly, moving to the window where he traced one long finger along the glass. It shimmered beneath his touch, like the surface of a pond disturbed by wind.

“You can build a life here…I will help and make sure no one takes advantage of you.” Hatter told me, eyes narrowing.

"I suppose I don't have much choice," I said, running my fingers along the quilt's patchwork edge. Each square seemed to shift subtly beneath my touch, warming or cooling in response.

"There's always choice in Wonderland," the Hatter replied, turning back to face me. "It's just rarely the choices you expect."

I swallowed hard, trying to process everything. My old life—gone. My future—completely rewritten in the space of a day. And yet... some treacherous part of me whispered that maybe this was where I belonged all along. Maybe that's why nothing had ever quite fit before.

"I'll need clothes," I said finally, gesturing at my mud-stained jeans and torn sweater. "And to understand how things work here. The rules."

"Rules?" The Hatter's laughter faded into a crooked smile. "Oh my dear Alice, Wonderland has patterns, not rules. Currents rather than laws." He made a fluid gesture with his hand. "But yes, you'll need proper attire. Something that marks you as under my protection, at the very least."

He crossed to a wardrobe that seemed to grow from the wall itself, its wooden doors carved with spiraling patterns that moved when I wasn't looking directly at them. When he pulled them open, the inside seemed much larger than should have been possible, filled with fabrics in colors I couldn't quite name.

"Your old clothes won't do," he said, rifling through the hanging garments. "They smell too much of your world. Too... ordinary. Wonderland responds to the extraordinary."

I slid my legs over the edge of the bed, testing my weight on shaky limbs. "I don't need anything fancy. Just practical."

The Hatter snorted, pulling out a dress that seemed to be woven from midnight and starlight. "Practicality is relative in Wonderland. What protects you in the Tulgey Wood would get you devoured in the Queen's garden."

I eyed the dress skeptically. It was beautiful, certainly—the fabric shifting like liquid shadow, with tiny pinpricks of light that winked and danced as it moved. But it looked like something from a fairy tale, not something I could actually wear.

"I can't fight in that," I pointed out.

The Hatter's eyebrows rose, his mouth curving into a pleased smile. "Fighting already, are we? Good. I'd hoped your spirit hadn't been entirely tamed by that other world." He replaced the dress and pulled out something else— a set of garments unlike anything I'd seen before. Soft leather pants in a deep forest green, a blouse of cream-colored fabric that seemed to flow like water, and a fitted jacket embroidered with silver thread in patterns that shifted as they caught the light.

"This will serve you better," he said, laying them across the foot of the bed. "The fabric is woven with protective charms. Not my work—I'm better with metals and mechanisms—but a gift from a friend who understands the importance of proper attire in Wonderland."

I reached out tentatively, running my fingers over the leather pants. They felt buttery soft, yet somehow I knew they would be far more durable than they appeared.

"Who made these?" I asked, examining the intricate silver stitching on the jacket.

"The Caterpillar," the Hatter replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Or rather, what he became. Metamorphosis suits him—he sees the world through many more eyes now."

"The Caterpillar..." I murmured, memories filtering back—smoke rings and riddles, cryptic words delivered with imperious disdain. "He's still around?"

"Changed, as we all are," the Hatter said, his fingers playing with a loose thread on his sleeve. "But yes. He remembers you fondly, in his way. Said you were the only Dreamer who ever answered his questions with questions of your own."

I smiled faintly, tracing the silvery embroidery that seemed to move beneath my fingertips like living things. "I was a stubborn child."

"And now a stubborn woman," the Hatter said, eyes crinkling with fondness. "The stubborn ones always find their way back to Wonderland."

I picked up the clothes, feeling their strange weight—heavier than they looked, yet somehow lighter than seemed possible. "I'll change then," I said, glancing around for somewhere private.

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